


What lies in the tunnels

by MayLovelies



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayLovelies/pseuds/MayLovelies
Summary: Despite being warned of Maeglin and told to stay away from him, Tuor cannot help but let his curiosity toward the dark elf take over him. That curiosity one day lands him in Maeglin’s forge.





	What lies in the tunnels

Tuor was warned by many not to make way to the tunnels. 

 

Gondolin was a place of beauty and purity from the white chiseled buildings to the fair elven men and maidens. Yet, in the depths, below the castle and far away from the warm and welcoming parts of the kingdom was a terrifying presence that Tuor had been made aware of the moment he entered Gondlin. First by Idril, then other lords and ladies who had a disdain for whatever resided in the tunnels.

 

Normally, Tuor would have listened. Yet, when he first laid eyes upon the subject that was the cause of so much dismay and hatred, he only remembered his heart skipping a few beats. It was at a small gathering in Turgon’s residence, where the elves were dressed in white and Idril and Tuor danced , when he saw a figure deep of skin, his eyes shifting back and forth as if he knew he was not wanted. 

 

For a split second, his harsh brown glare caught Tuor’s and the two held a gaze until the elf turned away.  

 

That was Maeglin, son of Aredhel and Eol–the Dark Elf. Because of his father’s lineage, he was not well liked around Gondolin and for the most part, tolerated. Idril told Tuor many times of how Maeglin’s presence and his different lineage and skin brought her great discomfort. She feared that because of his dark elven past, he would one day bring her harm.

 

Tuor believed that, given how sheltered the elves of Gondolin were , and how crude they were to those who were different from them in culture and appearance, that Idril’s mindset was explainable. 

 

Yet, Tuor was not a high elf, he was not Idril nor her kin. When his house fell and he was forced to live on upon the streets, he knew a bit of how it felt to be hated for what he could not control. He would not pass the same misjudgment toward someone else. 

 

However, it was not just kindness that brought him to Maeglin’s tunnels as of present. Tuor had a love for things that others saw no beauty in. One could say that for him, it was love at first sight regardless, he wanted to know Maeglin more. 

 

Presently, he made his way through the tunnels, listening to the sound of metal clanging upon metal as he was told that is where he’d find the dark elf. It did not take him long to find a small forge, shadowed save for the fire and sparks flying upon a sword. 

 

It was then he cleared his throat, gaining the dark elves attention. 

 

“Lord Tuor,” Maegin said, obvious distaste in his mouth. “Is there something I can aid you with? Did his Majesty send for me?”

 

“No, no.” Tuor admitted, moving some of his blond hair from his eyes. “I was wandering down here, lost actually.”

 

Maeglin rose a furrowed eyebrow. “Finding my tunnels is difficult…I am having trouble understanding how you may have found your way here, let alone how you are lost.”

 

Maeglin had dropped his tools upon the table, his arms crossed as he gazed upon Tuor with his familiar piercing eyes. He seemed to be able to see through whatever lie Tuor was telling, yet, could not understand just exactly why he was lying.

 

“Is there something you need Tuor.” He asked, his voice demanding.

 

“I…” Tuor, feeling caught in a web, slumped his shoulders. “You seem to have caught me in a lie. I was simply in your tunnels to see you.”

 

It was then Maeglin’s shoulders fell, and he seemed rather curious. “Are you commissioning a piece? Perhaps a sword–”

 

“No…I just wanted to…get to know you.” Tuor admitted. “I’ve heard so much about you, though we have never formally met. I saw you at the gathering near a month ago, and have not seen you since." 

 

Maeglin sighed, leaning against is work table. "I stay toward the shadows. If you’ve heard much about me, then you know I am not very well liked." 

 

Tuor, took this as a chance to step over the threshold, entering the forge. It was still dimly lit,  but from what he saw there were a couple of chairs a distance away from the fire. Inviting himself in, he took a seat, gazing up at Maeglin.

 

"Yes, I’ve heard that for many reasons–”

 

“Is it my father, my skin color, my sharp gaze? Perhaps you’ve heard all three. Are you here to confirm the rumors you’ve heard about me…to get a better look at me to prove what they’ve all said is correct?”

 

Tuor shrugged. “I have nothing to about your sharp gaze–though the gaze is perhaps what captivated me.” He saw Maeglin’s eyes narrow again, so Tuor took it as a chance to speak. “But your skin color…I’ve never seen it before. I know little of your father yet only that he is less liked than you are but, if there is anything I find he did well…then it was perhaps passing on to you his dark complexion. I think it is very beautiful.”

 

If Maeglin could turn red, then perhaps he would have but he looked away, down at his feet and then back at Tuor. “Are all mortals so straight forward when it comes to how they feel. That is very improper among the Eldar.”

 

“You and I are not Eldar.” Tuor commented, a smirk coming to his face.

 

Maeglin, still leaning against his table let out a shuddering sigh, his head shaking. “It is said that you are promised to Idril.”

 

“Turgon seeks to have us married, yet I will not marry if my heart lies elsewhere.”

 

There was a silence and Maeglin, unsure of what to say, turned to continue his work. It was then Tuor stood up, approaching him and looming behind him to see his craft. Maeglin was not a high elf meaning he lacked the height of the others. He and Tuor were near the same height, though Maeglin was a hair shorter. 

 

“A sword?” Tuor commented, noticing the object.

 

“A dagger more so.” Maeglin replied, tensing a bit at Tuor’s presence behind him.

 

Tuor smiled and returned to his seat. Again, silence passed and then Tuor spoke again.

 

“If I asked you to marry me, if I went to Turgon now, would you do so?”

 

“You don’t even know  me.” Maeglin shot back. 

 

“I don’t know Idril yet we are expected to be engaged. I will learn to know you, and we will be happy.” Tuor admitted. “You must feel it too.”

A few more strokes of the sword and Maeglin turned around, a frown on his lips.

 

“You are mortal. You will die in such a short time. You’re selfish for trying to make me fall in love with you!” Maeglin replied. “You want me to be happy for what? Eighty or so years and then I’ll be lonely again–”

 

“That is not something we can think about now.”  Tuor cut him off.

It seemed as if Maeglin wanted to say something, but he bit his lip and looked back to his work. “Until you find a way to resolve your issue of mortality, then my answer is no.”

 

“Then I will continue to ask you, until you say yes…”

 

Maeglin turned to Tuor, his eyes for the first time, soft. “Go now. You’ve distracted me from a commission but…I ask that you return here again. I enjoy your company…whether I marry you or not. Go, now please. I need focus.”

 

Tuor stood, inclining a big with a smile on his face.

 

“Yes, Lord Maeglin. And I will not stop asking for your hand in marriage.”

 

As Tuor left, there was a hint–easily missed if he did not pay attention–of a smile on Maeglin’s face. Tuor smiled himself; things were bound to go his way.


End file.
